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Last night while out drinking with my work mates I witnessed a strange event. We were sat in a bar, called O Bar, that has two levels and the stairs come down into the main bar where we were drinking.

So, all of a sudden there was a loud crash a we just saw a guy fall, from about half way up the stairs, down onto the floor. It looked like he’d landed on his head and there was a half sympathetic groan from most of the people sat around. The guy got up, rubbed his head a bit and went about his business claiming to be ok. His mates were having a good old chuckle about it and so with everyone healthy and no blood spilt on the floor we carried on with our night out.

About quarter of an hour later I crossed paths with one of the friends of the guy who had fallen. “Is your mate ok?” I asked, “That really looked like it hurt!”

The friend, who was wearing a fantastic, chequered, lumberjack style shirt I must add, just laughed.

“That’s his party trick!” he said “He just chucks himself down stairs for fun.”

I just looked at the guy in disbelief

“He’s much better when he’s wearing his slippy shoes you know” the friend added as he left.

Tonight I am going out for dinner and drinks with colleagues from work. Tonight it is actually someone’s leaving do, but at the company where I work we do tend to go out at the end of every month just for a bit of a get together. I find this a good thing to do but in general it does seem like something that happens less and less. People who work together seem less inclined to hang out together outside office hours and to some people the thought of getting drunk with the people they work with is positively intimidating or boring – who wants to spend a night out talking shop right?!? The first time I went out with my boss I managed to get seriously drunk and have a go at him about how much he paid me, I don’t even really remember doing this but it worked as I got a pay rise and two years later I’m still working in the same place so I did something right!!

So, do you drink with your boss??

Do you worry about getting into trouble for your behaviour on a night out and therefore avoid going out with work buddies at all?

Are your work mates just dicks and not people you want to be seen with?

Earlier this year the whole nation was converted to “Chip and PIN”. For those unaware, this was the scheme which stopped shops using the magnetic strip on the back of your bank cards and your completely unique signature and replaced it instead with a little chip and a four digit code to use instead.

At the time there were adverts everywhere telling you how it was going to make your money more secure, how it was going to make sure your identity was harder to steal and how it would help you keep that athletes foot problem under control.

But, as I was using the cash point this morning I saw a little sticker on top of the cash machine saying “WATCH OUT: Who’s looking over your shoulder?? PIN thieves operate in this area” and it got me thinking. Have we just made it easier for people to steal from us?

Now, instead of having to forge someone’s signature to use their card in a shop, all you need to do is know their PIN. OK, so it was always possible to steal someone’s card and then withdraw money from their bank if you knew their PIN, but if you were going to go in a shop you’d at least have to have the balls to have a go at the signature and face the risk of getting busted. I myself was once working in a shop when a young lad tried to pay for some goods using some lady’s credit card. Fortunately, being the astute individual I am, I noticed this and refused to let him use the card – these days you don’t even have to hand the card to the shop assistant in most cases.

People who have more than one card are also quite likely to use the same PIN for every card. Banks tell you not to do this, but I reckon there are still a lot of people who do. In an age where you have to remember so many passwords and secret words already, how many people really want to rememeber three or four different PINs as well? This means if someone watches you at a cash point, gets your PIN, nicks you wallet and heads off shopping they’re quite able to acquire several grand off you if you’ve got a credit card or two.

And, how much easier is it for these people to steal you PIN considering you now have to stand and type it in in front of a queue of people every time you use your card in a shop!!

I don’t know, there must be some logic somewhere, but it doesn’t make sense to me.

Today was Guy Fawkes night here in England, a time when we celebrate some dude getting busted for trying to blow up a load of politicians. Quite why we celebrate this I don’t know. Maybe if the guy had succeeded I could see the real appeal!!

These days the meaning of the whole thing seems to have been a little forgotten and it is more just a chance for the Chinese to import a shit load of dodgy fireworks and for irresponsible shopkeepers to sell them to ten year old kids so that they can go and fire them in each others faces. For several days around Guy Falkes night it sounds a bit like Beirut with explosions going off every few seconds along with sirens as the ambulances race to pick up the mutilated children.

Myself and a few friends indulged in a little of the firework fun ourselves as well as having a kickass bonfire, which helped to keep us warm along with the Stella and whiskey we consumed.

The fireworks purchased were not the most expensive available (buy one box get one box free at Tesco) but this contributed to the enjoyment of the evening as we got to laugh at the way some of them were absolutely pathetic. The rockets in particular shot of with a huge whoosh which you expected to be followed by a deafening bang. In reality I could probably have made a louder noise by clapping.

Here are some photos of the event. I’ll leave the pictures pictures to do the talking as I’m sure you’ll agree they are of the highest quality and need no explanation!!

And so, on just day four, I’ve missed the deadline. It’s a lot harder than I thought it would be to come up with something to write about everyday. Because I don’t really want to start writing about what I do on a day to day basis I have to find other shit to write about, and on a day when I’ve done nothing but sleep and get high that can be a little tough.

To me this should still count. I’ve thought about blogging a lot today but just not been able to come up with a worthy topic, and to me this is still Saturday despite the fact that it is technically Sunday. It’s all technicalities really!

What the fuck is going on?? When did art become some sort of crazy bullshit where you can just splodge some paint on a canvas and people will pay a ridiculous amount of money for it?? Where did I go wrong?? Should I have been in the crowd sploding the paint?? Would I be richer now if I had?

I drink in a bar where they like to have what they would describe as “modern art” on the walls, we’re talking plain white canvases with slightly raised white bumps, random pin boards with string randomly scattered all over the place, anything. Generally the art forms part of a student project but still, is this really the best that our new generation can come up with?? Is there no true creativity anymore?? Do they really have to do something so obscure that people stand, look, and say “what the fuck is that??” just to make an impact??

Whatever happened to real art? What happened to still life? What’s wrong with a good old portrait nowadays??

I hate to sound old fashioned but I just don’t believe in all this new age shit. I’m not a great art lover in general, but I’d still rather see a picture that someone has painted of a beautiful countryside scene than a random collection of colour that someone has thrown together with a really inventive title such as “Life in a cage” or “Spunk on a hotel bed”. Give me strength. This shit is whack!

Last night I was telling the missus about a shopping centre I had visited during my holiday to Malaysia earlier this year. This shopping centre was the home of all the expensive shops and was quite easily the plushest shopping centre I have ever visited. So anyway, in describing the place I said “it smells like a brand new spanking five star hotel”, but as I looked up at the missus I could immediately see the confusion on her face.

“Did you just say spunk?” she replied.

It took me a moment to realise the significance of what she’d said and realise that she thought I’d said “it smells like brand new spunk in a five star hotel”.

The Watford Gap is, without a doubt, one of the most famous locations in the UK. As the most recognisable marker on the border between England and Scotland it is a place of great legend and mystery, and is the centre of a lot of jokes and banter between those in ‘The North’ and those in ‘The South’.

From Wikipedia – “Those living north of the Watford Gap claim that it is the point where humour, humility and humanity begins. Southerners respond by claiming that it is the line where well being, self respect and spirit end.”

Originally the site of an important coaching inn, ‘Da Gap’ as it is know to modern youth, has witnessed numerous significant events over the years. Those events include the Inn Keeper being the first to master both the English and Scottish languages, that speech by the Braveheart bloke when he had his face painted blue and white, and the first Scotland v England drinking competition. The drinking competition is particularly interesting as it was won by the English. This was an unexpected result and led to all Scots giving their children Scotch Whiskey from birth in an attempt to toughen them up. Scientists have not conclusively proved it, but this is generally credited as the reason 99% of Scots now have more than a slight drinking problem.

Forget what all those maps say. Bradfields’ Brain tells it like it really is!

Now the home of the finest service station on the M1 motorway, where coffee only costs £2.75 a cup, The Watford Gap is a place I would implore all guests in the UK to visit. One important point to remember however, if crossing from England into Scotland you must remember to take some coal to spend as the pound was abolished by the Scots in 1962.